


They Followed Me Home

by StBridget



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Kittens, literal fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: Jack adopts five cats and has to convince Mac to keep them.





	They Followed Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt "I may have accidentally adopted five cats." I've wanted to use this prompt since I saw it, but, as some of you know, I just lost my cat, so cat stories were a little raw. I'm finally up to writing it, so here you go. I thought this was going to be a quick little ficlet, but somehow it grew to almost 2500 words. . .

“Jack, I need help,” Riley Davis’ voice came over the phone.

 

Jack Dalton was immediately on alert.  The hacker was like a daughter to him, and if she was in trouble, the soldier would move heaven and earth to see that she was safe.  “What’s wrong?  Are you in immediate danger?  Hang tight, I’ll be right there.”

 

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Riley assured him.  “I didn’t mean to panic you.  I just need help with. . .something.”

 

Jack relaxed slightly.  Riley wasn’t in immediate danger, but Jack was still concerned.  It could still be something bad.  “You don’t need help hiding a body, do you?”  He made it sound like a joke, but he was actually serious.  In their line of work, it was entirely possible.

 

“No, Jack.  It’s just. . .I found something.”

 

Visions of just what she could have found ran through Jack’s head.  Drugs?  Weapons?  A bomb?  Jack hoped it wasn’t the latter.  Drugs and weapons he could handle, no problem, but bombs were his partner and lover Angus “Mac” MacGyver’s thing.  After all, the kid had been EOD.  “Riley, you’re scaring me.  What is it?”

 

“Nothing bad.  I’ll show you when you get here, I promise.  I just don’t want you to yell at me.”

 

Jack was already grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out the door.  He didn’t like that Riley was being so mysterious.  It set off all kinds of alarm bells in his head.  “I would never yell at you, Ri.”  He could tell even over the phone she wasn’t convinced.  “Well, not unless you deserved it,” he amended, “and I can’t imagine anything you’d find that would be that bad.  As long as it’s not dangerous, anyway.”

 

“They’re not dangerous,” Riley said.

 

They’re?  Now Jack was really curious.  Riley didn’t seem to be more forthcoming with information, though.  Well, he’d just have to wait and see.

 

Jack made the 20 minute drive in 12.  Thankfully, there was no traffic, and, okay, he may have exceeded the speed limit just a little (okay, a lot, but he was worried).  He thundered up the stairs to her apartment, too impatient to wait for the elevator, dismayed to find himself slightly winded when he reached her floor.  Damn getting older—his stamina wasn’t what it used to be.  He’d have to work on that.  Right now, though, he had more important things on his mind.

 

Riley answered the door as soon as Jack knocked.  She must have been waiting for him.  He pushed past her, senses on alert.  “Where are they?”  He spotted a box in the corner.  “Is that it?”

 

“Yeah,” Riley said.  Before she could continue, the box gave a lurch.

 

Jack’s hand went for his gun.  Riley grabbed his arm, stopping him (yeah, he’d come armed.  Worried, remember?)  “Don’t shoot!”

 

Jack stilled his motion but kept an eye on the box.  As he watched, what appeared to be a small, gray paw poked its way out of the box, accompanied by a soft mew.  “A cat, Riley?  You got me over here for a _cat_?”  He strode over to the box and opened it.  Sure enough, inside was not one but. . . “Five?  You found five cats?  What on earth were you thinking?”

 

“I didn’t know what to do.  I found them in the dumpster, just crawling around on top of all the trash.”

 

Now that she mentioned it, they did smell a little ripe.  Jack waved his hand in front of his nose to ward off the smell.  Still, he couldn’t really blame Riley for rescuing them.  “Okay, I see your point.  What do you expect me to do about it?”

 

“I don’t know what to do with them,” Riley said.  “I’d keep them, but I can’t have pets.  I was hoping you’d help me.”

 

“Don’t look at me,” Jack said.  “Mac’ll have a fit if I bring home five cats.  Take them to the pound.”

 

“But, Jack, they’ll kill them!” Riley wailed.  She plucked up a ball of gray fluff, probably the one that had been trying to get out, and held it out to Jack.  He reflexively stepped back.  “Look at them.  They’re so small and helpless.  Could you do that to them, Jack?  Could you?”  She turned on the puppy dog eyes.  The kitten turned big green eyes on him as well.  Together they were hard to resist.

 

Jack wasn’t going to give up that easily.  “There must be rescues who’d take them.”  He waved his hand in the direction of Riley’s laptop sitting on the coffee table.  “Do your thing and look them up.”

 

Riley beamed.  “Great idea!”  She thrust the kitten out to him.  “Here, hold him while I look.” 

 

Jack had no choice but to take the kitten.  He held it awkwardly under the arms, and it dangled in mid-air.  “You are kind of cute, you know.”  It stared at him, unblinking.  “Don’t look at me like that.  I’m not taking you home.”  It mewled.  “I mean it.”  Another mew.  Jack shifted his grip and drew the kitten to his chest.  It snuggled further into his arms and started purring.  Jack tried hard to keep up the façade, but his heart melted at the sight of the tiny ball of fluff in his arms.  “Don’t worry, we’ll find someone to take good care of you.”

 

“I’ve got seven no-kill rescues in the LA area,” Riley said from where she was sitting on the sofa.

 

Jack moved to stand behind the sofa, still cuddling the kitten, hand absently stroking its soft fur in a soothing rhythm.  “Great!  So let’s call them.  Surely one of them can take these little guys off your hands.”

 

They split up the list and started calling, hampered by the kittens who had discovered how to climb out of the box and were roaming Riley’s apartment, getting into everything.  Every couple of minutes, one of them would have to get up and pull a kitten out from under the sofa or the coffee table or the kitchen counter and put it back in the box.  Finally, Jack had had enough.  “Put them on the sofa.  That way, it’ll be easier to keep an eye on them, and maybe they’ll settle down.”

 

Together, they carried the kittens to the sofa.  Jack could see why Riley had rescued them.  They looked barely old enough to be weaned, and they were awfully scrawny and dirty, covered with splotches from messy garbage as well as dirt.  They did look pretty pathetic, and Riley had a soft heart.  Of course she’d taken them in.

 

Besides the gray one Jack had been holding, there was another gray, two brown tabbies, and a brown and white tabby.  They were all squirming to get down, but once they were on the couch between the two humans, they, as Jack had predicted, settled down.  While Jack and Riley continued their calls, the two grays crawled into Jack’s lap, and the tabby and white crawled into Riley’s.  The two tabbies were content to curl up with each other.  Soon, all five drifted off to sleep.

 

Jack put down his phone after his last call.  “Well, that’s it.  I struck out.”

 

Riley hung up her own phone.  “Me, too.  Every one told me it’s kitten season, and they’re overflowing.”

 

Jack sighed.  “Yeah.  ‘We can’t take one kitten, let alone five,’” he mimicked the volunteers.

 

“What are we going to do?” Riley asked.

 

“I guess it’s the pound after all.”  Even as he said it, Jack knew he couldn’t do it.  He’d already grown attached to what he thought of as “his” gray, and he couldn’t just take it and leave the others to their fate.  He heaved a sigh.  “Or, I could just take them.”

 

Riley looked hopeful.  “Would you, Jack?”

 

Jack sighed again.  “Give me the box.”

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Fortunately, Mac wasn’t home when Jack got back, so he had a little time to prepare before breaking the news to his lover.  Their roommate, Wilt Bozer, was home and cooed over the kittens.

 

“They’re so cute!  Can we keep them?” he asked.

 

“That’s the plan,” Jack said.  “It depends on what Mac says, though.”

 

Bozer picked up the tabby and white and held it to his face, rubbing noses with it.  “If he doesn’t want them all, I’ll take this little guy.  I’ll call you Peter, for Peter Jackson.  How does that sound?”

 

“You don’t even know it’s a boy,” Jack pointed out.

 

“So, if it’s a girl, I’ll call her Jackie,” Bozer said.

 

Jack decided it wasn’t worth pursuing the topic further.  It did, however, bring up a good point—they needed names.  Maybe if they had names, Mac would be less likely to demand Jack get rid of them.  He also decided it was probably a good idea if they didn’t look and smell like garbage.  “Help me bathe them,” he said to Bozer.

 

“Are you crazy?  I’m not going to help you bathe kittens.  That’s more dangerous than our jobs!”

 

“Please?  It’ll be easier to do with two people.  We can bathe them in the sink.”

 

“Fine,” Bozer conceded, “but you’re not bathing them in the kitchen sink.  It’s unsanitary.”

 

“Bathroom it is,” Jack agreed.

 

Getting five kittens in the bathroom sink proved to be impossible.  As soon as they put one in, two others crawled out.  The sink was barely big enough anyway.  So, Jack and Bozer settled for one at a time, putting the others in the bathtub.  That proved unsuccessful, though.  The two men were hoping the tub would be slick enough to keep the kittens from crawling out, but they just stood on each other and roamed around the bathroom, getting under foot.  One even fell into the toilet bowl, after which Jack put the seat down.  Fortunately, it was one they hadn’t washed yet.

 

Finally, all five were bathed.  Jack had to admit they looked better.  They smelled like citrus shampoo, and their fur was clean and fluffy.  The sink hadn’t fared so well, though.

 

Bozer looked at the fur and dirt coating the basin.  “Man, Mac’s not going to be happy.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it.  Don’t want to piss Mac off more than he’s already going to be.”

 

That, too, proved easier said than done.  Jack had to pluck at least three different kittens out of the sink before he finally managed to scrub it clean.

 

Finally, he was done.  He made a couple of calls, including one to a vet to set up an appointment for the next day, then headed out to get supplies for the kittens, leaving them in Bozer’s care.  Jack didn’t hesitate to leave them with the other man—when he left, the kittens were crawling all over Bozer, using him as a human cat tree.  They’d be fine.

 

Jack returned with supplies for the kittens as well as takeout from their favorite Italian restaurant.  Maybe he could soften Mac up with a romantic dinner.  If that didn’t work, Jack wasn’t above using sex to get what he wanted.  He shut the kittens up in the bathroom, praying they wouldn’t get into too much trouble, and set the table with a white tablecloth, real china and silver (which he had to retrieve from the highest cupboard since they never used it), and Mac's favorite wine.  When his lover came home, Jack was ready.

 

Jack met Mac at the door, greeting him with a passionate kiss.

 

“Mmm,” Mac hummed when they broke apart.  “What was that for?”

 

“Can’t a guy kiss his lover hello?” Jack said.

 

“Yeah, but usually you only do that when you want something or did something wrong,” Mac said.  He sniffed the air.  “Is that Italian?”

 

“Yeah, your favorite.”  Jack led Mac to the table.

 

Mac took in the place settings and let out a low whistle.  “Okay, now I know you did something wrong, so give.  What did you do?”

 

Damn, Mac knew him too well.  Jack was trying to figure out how best to reply when a crash came from the bathroom.

 

Mac was instantly on alert.  “What was that?”

 

“A ghost?” Jack tried.

 

Mac sent him a withering look.  “First of all, I don’t believe in ghosts, and second, I’ve lived here for years and never seen any sign of them.  Try again.”

 

Before Jack could respond, a yowl came from the bathroom.

 

“Do you have an animal in there?” Mac asked.

 

“Maybe?” Jack replied.

 

Mac strode over to the bathroom and flung open the door.  The kittens tumbled out, winding around the blond’s ankles and trying to climb up his pants leg.  “Kittens?  What are kittens doing in our bathroom?”

 

“I may have accidentally adopted five cats,” Jack said.

 

“No,” Mac said, firmly.  “We are not keeping five cats.”

 

“But, they’re so cute!”  Jack picked up the gray who was rapidly becoming his favorite.  “How can you say no to this face?”  Jack wasn’t very good at puppy dog eyes, but he gave it his best shot.  The kitten obligingly also turned wide eyes on Mac.

 

“Absolutely not,” Mac said.

 

“But, Mac, we’d have to take them to the pound.  How can you do that to Metallica?”

 

Mac sighed.  “You had to go and name them, didn’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Jack said.  “This is Metallica.”  He lifted up the kitten he was holding.  He pointed to the two tabbies.  “Those are Waylon and Willie, and the other gray is Iron Maiden.  Bozer named the last one Peter for Peter Jackson.”

 

Mac refused to give in.  “Jack, we can’t keep them.  We travel too much to take care of them.”

 

“Bozer’ll look after them when we’re gone.”

 

“What about when Bozer goes with us?” Mac asked.

 

“Then Matty will look after them.”

 

“Jack, I hardly think Matty is going to want to look after five cats.”  Mac caught Jack’s expression.  “You already asked her, didn’t you?”

 

“She said she’d be happy to.  She loves cats,” Jack said.

 

Mac sighed.  “I’m not winning this, am I?”  Jack just looked hopeful.  “Fine, we can keep them.”

 

Jack gave his lover a big hug, forgetting he was still holding Metallica.  They kitten gave a meow of protest, and Jack backed off.  “Thanks, Mac.  You won’t regret it.”

 

Mac pinched his forehead.  “I already do.”

**Author's Note:**

> No, I don't plan to have the kittens show up again.
> 
> I know seeing Matty as a cat lover is difficult, but I figure she has to have a soft spot for something, so why not kittens? ;)


End file.
